Her Safe Place
by SassyRaptor
Summary: Anger derives from hurt. He understands this. He understands her. Trez oneshot. Friendship, slight fluff.


"Okay—time out. _Why are you acting like this?_ " the frustrated redhead questions the girl who had just snapped at him over his accidentally knocking his foot against her leg under their table, resulting in her dropping her sandwich. He apologized, of course, but Trish wasn't having it. She ended up chewing him out on how clumsy and irritating he is, and knocking his fries over on purpose, in retaliation. If it was eleven years ago, Dez would have shrugged off this behavior. _Now?_ Not so much. Not with everything they've been through together. Not with how much their friendship had grown.

" _What you mean?_ " Trish snaps back at him, his words only angering her more. She folds her arms tightly across her chest, as if in defense. Dez's face softens as he reads her uneasy body language.

"Trish. _Talk to me._ " While Austin and Ally may have more of an amiable relationship with the girl on the surface, it's only Dez that she's ever been able to truly open up to. Despite them ocassionally being at odds with each other, they understand each other like no one else can. Their friendship was never a black-and-white one, and to simply call it _frenemies_ or _love-hate_ would hardly do it justice. For one thing, even when they _do_ snark at each other with playful insults, they know exactly where the lines are drawn and never dare cross them. Heck, if anyone else jumps those boundaries, they always have each other's backs—without hesitance. So _this_ version of Trish, the kind that would say such heartless and cutting things to him, is not the Trish that he's come to know and revere. This is a distant Trish, a guarded Trish. A version of her that keeps him at arm's length. Anger is a secondary emotion, and the anger she's displayed just now could only come from a place of deep hurt. This is why her anger hadn't affected him in a way she would expect. More than anything else, it raises concern within him.

" _I-_ " she starts quietly, but stops herself. The anger donned on her face softens slightly, as if she's fighting to keep it on. As if she is doing her best to hide what ever it is that she is _actually_ feeling. She shifts her gaze down to the table before her. She stares at the ketchup smeared across the middle of it from Dez's little spill, as well as his decision to not waste the condiment and swipe his fries across it anyway. She purses her lips, trying not to think about the gross, but strangely endearing action of his. She has to act angry. _Right?_

" _Hey,_ " he tries again, reaching over the table, pulling her arms free and clasping onto her hands. "What's going on? You're not on Trish-level mean right now. This is some kinda Kenneth Kreen-level. _You remember that critic?_ " he attempts a joke, hoping to lighten her mood. "Something's up and you're not telling me. What's got your goat?" Trish stares down at his hands grasping hers, some of the tension finally leaving her body. She exhales an exhausted sigh and shakes her head.

" _What is it with you and goats, you whack-a-doodle?_ " she shoots right back, in a gentler manner than before. Dez can't help but smile at this.

" _There we go._ Back onto that Trish-level we all adore," he chuckles as the girl's eyes roll. "But don't change the subject. I'm gonna buy us some more fries and you're going to tell me what's up."

"So, what? You're my _therapist_ now?" she questions him, quirking a brow, keeping up her defense.

" _Wasn't I always?_ " he counters, releasing her hands and standing himself up from his seat.

" _Touché_ ," she submits, staring down at her now-cold hands. She continues staring down at them until she hears the screech of his chair being pulled back for him to sit in. He sets the freshly-made fries down on the table, pushing them towards her. She grabs one and takes a small bite into it, chewing slowly, her appetite almost entirely gone. Dez watches her in silence for a few moments before pressing her further. As he comes to a realization, his expression hardens.

"This is about _him_ isn't it?" he practically demands, all but seething. He had hoped that things would have worked out well between Trish and her so-called _boyfriend_. All he wants, more than anything, is for his best friends to be happy. She did seem happy— _at first._ He was willing to give the boy the benefit of the doubt, but he never really trusted him. Especially not with Trish's heart, one that had been broken several times already in her young life. He leans forward towards her, resting his forearms on the table and clasping his hands together.

" _C_ _an we not talk about this right now?_ " she pleads, strain in her voice. The very thought of it all exhausts her. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you, I guess I'm just in a bad mood." Her apology is sincere, and it takes his all to not give in to her gentle pleas. He shakes his head.

" _If he hurt you—"_

" _—Dez! Just leave it alone!_ " she cries out, attracting the attention of some nearby diner patrons. "I don't wanna talk about it, okay? I just want to have a nice lunch with my friend and forget it ever happened." Dez frowns.

"Forget _what_ happened?" he pushes, his own anger building by the second—not at her, of course. Trish shifts her gaze down to her lap, keeping it there in silence for about a minute as Dez stares her down for an answer.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" she asks rhetorically, voice sounding defeated. Dez continues insisting her on with his eyes. She takes a deep, slow breath before finally giving in. "Chuck cheated on me, _okay?_ Apparently Sunhee's newly single and he jumped on _that_ opportunity in a hot second. _Now can we please talk about something else?_ " She refuses to meet the redhead's gaze. Dez's initial anger that began bubbling up inside him at the revelation quickly subsides as he watches a silent tear roll down her face. His rage against Chuck will have to wait. He stands himself up, then carries his chair over to her side of the table. Her eyes stay trained to her lap.

" _I'm so sorry, Trish,_ " he says softly, setting his hand down gently upon her shoulder. She brings her hands up to her face, allowing more tears to run freely.

" _N-no I told you so's?_ " she asks meekly, her voice thick with sobs. He gives her shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.

"Trish, Chuck's a jerk. That is not your fault, _not in the slightest,_ " he affirms. He retracts his hand from her shoulder and begins lightly rubbing her back.

"Then why does it feel like it _is?_ " she cries, wiping her hands off of her face and turning to him. He winces at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. It's rare to ever see her cry, and when she does, he can feel his heart crumble. She's always been so strong, so guarded. He always looks up to her because of this, but it also makes him worry greatly about her. Bottling up emotions isn't healthy, and he's glad his folks did a good job of teaching him that.

"What do you mean?"

"Dez, I've had four relationships in my life. Each and every single one of them managed to hurt me somehow. So maybe the problem isn't _them_. Maybe it's _me._ " She bites her lip, pulling herself together piece by piece. Dez tenses, dropping his hand from her back.

"Okay, first of all— _how dare you?_ " he starts, holding up a finger in response to the confused look now on her face. "You're one of my favorite people, okay? And I like to think I have _impeccable_ taste." Her look of confusion doesn't change, but she does manage a small smile, her eyes looking down at his colorful, extravagant pants.

"I don't know if I can fully agree with you there," she manages to joke, giving Dez some slight relief, knowing that Chuck hadn't completely broken her. He smiles back at her.

" _You're amazing_. Your taste in guys? _Not so much._ But that doesn't mean the problem is you. _They're_ the jerks."

"You liked Jace, though," she adds.

"Yeah, sure, he was pretty cool," he agrees with a slight grimace. "But he's still a jerk for not listening to you and making so many assumptions about you. That isn't your fault, Trish. You just had some bad luck."

" _Unlike you._ How'd _you_ get so lucky? First girlfriend, and now she's basically your soulmate," she counters, somewhat bitterly, but she can't seem to pinpoint why. Dez's smile dampens into a rueful one. She quirks a brow in response. " _Trouble in paradise?_ "

"Hey, we're still friends and I don't consider that _trouble,_ " he insists, his hands raised in defense. Trish's eyes widen with sheer disbelief.

" _You and Carrie broke up?_ " she asks, incredulously. " _Why?!_ " They had always seemed like the perfect couple to her. If _they_ couldn't work out, what hope does _she_ have? Dez sighs.

"It wasn't anything bad," he assures her immediately. "We just didn't have the connection we thought we did. I just couldn't keep up with her sometimes, and she…she was my yes-man… _er_ …yes-woman more than anything else." He pauses, trying to figure out how to explain it properly. "I feel like she didn't have any _actual_ opinions about anything I did or tried to discuss with her. To her, I was a little too serious, believe it or not. I mean, _me? Serious?_ " He shakes his head fondly, and Trish nods for him to continue. "We still keep in touch and hang out. I feel like it works out better for the both of us this way. Friendship isn't a consolation prize, after all."

" _Definitely not._ I wouldn't trade you, Austin, or Ally for _anyone_ —not even some filthy rich prince or male model," she says, surprising herself with her genuineness in saying such. Dez smiles wider, knowingly.

"I _never_ doubted that," he states with confidence. "Y'know, you're more of a softy than you think you are."

" _Watch it, you doof,_ " she warns him, albeit playfully. She's assured that they can fall back into their usual banter. He takes one of her locks between his fingers, gently extending the curl and releasing it, joyfully watching it spring back into its original form. "I'm sorry about Carrie," Trish speaks up after a beat.

" _Don't be,_ " he says, continuing to mindlessly play with her curls. "I'm sorry about Chuck. The rest of them, too. You're too wonderful to have had such bad luck with men."

" _Don't be,_ " she mimics him. "I think I'm over it already." She laughs, amazed that he was actually able to pull her out of that dark place in her mind. Then again, he's always been pretty good at that. " _Thank you,_ " she says, stopping his hand from tugging another curl. " _You're a great friend._ " He grins.

"You'd do the same for me _and you know it,_ Curls."

" _Please_ don't tell me that nickname's gonna stick," she groans, but isn't completely adverse to it. He rests his hand on her shoulder, yet again.

"Hey, you have _way_ too many nicknames for me, I gotta balance it out somehow," he insists. "Hey, how about we go see a movie?"

"The new Zaliens?"

"Uh, _yeah._ What else?" he sasses back at her. She chuckles, giving him another eye roll.

"I'm in."

" _Good._ Then we can head back to my place," he adds, resulting in another confused look on Trish's face. She's indecisive with how she feels about what he had suggested.

" _Oh...kay,_ " she responds, hesitance in her voice. "And what are we going to do at your place?" she dares to ask. It's Dez's turn to roll his eyes.

"Plot revenge on Chuck, of course! _What else?_ " He stands up from his seat and offers her his hand. She smiles and takes it, gratefully, standing up alongside him. She picks up their unfinished carton of fries with her free hand and allows him to lead her over to the theatre.

She can feel a warmth, her hand in his, that goes beyond just the tactile surface of it. While curious and momentarily contemplating about exploring the feeling—a feeling that is mutual in Dez's case—she sets it aside for now. Dez had somehow managed to, at least partially, mend her broken heart—despite being the target of her pent-up rage and hurt initially. She's relieved, now fully grasping that she's in the company of one of her best friends. A _true_ friend who certainly cares about her and understands her more than any boyfriend she's ever had. For now, that's all she really needs.


End file.
